Wishing is a Powerful Thing
by BeachCat
Summary: Dr. Archibald Hopper is still reeling from the incident in the mines and he only wishes to see himself as Henry sees him. A tiny bit of magic seems to be leaking into Storybrooke. Meanwhile, in the Enchanted Forest, Jiminy Cricket has many trials ahead on his journey to find Geppetto. In either case, it's not easy being green. Set a few days after That Still Small Voice.
1. Wishing

"**Once Upon a Time" and any characters featured in the show belong to their proper owners, in other words, not me.**

**Set just after "That Still Small Voice."**

* * *

It was a cool, late summer night in Storybrooke. The sun had set, leaving only the faint blue light of twilight. Stars, one after another, gradually poked through the growing darkness. The leaves rustled in the trees along the edge of town, blown by a wind from the north bringing the warmer weather's end. There was only one thing out of the ordinary that night, a thing that _should _have been ordinary: the sound of cricket song. Their chirping and humming filled the air and beckoned the townsfolk outside to listen and to question why they had never, for as long as they could remember, heard or perhaps noticed them before. One person in particular, sat on his front porch listening to the oddly nostalgic sound.

Dr. Archibald Hopper rocked lightly off the balls of his feet, enjoying how the squeak of his rocking chair harmonized with the cricket song. Happily sipping his tea, he watched as the last of summer's fireflies rose into the sky to join the brightening stars.

A small throbbing pain interrupted his calm and he put a hand to his forehead. It had been a few days since the incident at the abandoned mine but the bump Archie received in the elevator still ached now and again. The reminder brought the memories back afresh and he couldn't help but think on what Henry had said.

"_I think you _can_ be him." Henry said with a sigh. "I think you _can_ be a good person. I mean," he shrugged as if he was stating the most natural thing in the world, " you're Jiminy Cricket."_

"_Henry," Dr. Hopper leaned towards the boy. How could he explain to him that he wasn't this fairy tale character? "Henry, Jiminy Cricket was a – he was a cricket, okay? And he was a conscience a-and," he shook his head with an ounce of self-loathing, "I hardly think that's me."_

_Henry bent forward with a determined look in his eye and an innocent smile._

"_But before that, he was a guy who took a long time to figure out … the right thing to do."_

_That gave Dr. Hopper reason to pause. Was this Henry's way of forgiving him for saying such awful things in the office? Was it his way of saying he believed Archie was a good man? No, it was so much more than that; he could tell. Thinking about it now, it took getting trapped underground in an ancient, rickety elevator for Archie to realize that he should have never listened to Regina, as … convincing as she was._

_He smiled lightly, nodding. "That kind of sounds like me." How could he have been so foolish?_

"_Now, it's harder for you," Henry continued, "because of the curse, to hear the voice inside of you, to be who you want to be."_

_Dr. Hopper felt a small smile tug the side of his lips and he looked to the dusty floor. Henry was such a good kid. Archie knew that, despite his imaginative method of relating with the world, Henry was very insightful about the character of people, certainly more so than the mayor ever was._

_Suddenly, the elevator shook with a clatter and both Dr. Hopper and Henry jumped in fright._

_Archie felt his hope for rescue falter and fear rose in his chest. Not fear for himself, no, fear for Henry. Fear for the life of the boy for whom he was responsible. Fear for the boy who still looked to the sky with hope and faith that someone would rescue them; this boy who was such an innocent child and wise beyond his years; the boy who thought his poor, flawed therapist was worthy enough to "be" Jiminy Cricket._

It was then, Dr. Hopper remembered, that he decided, if they made it out safe, to never let Henry down again, to do the right thing. It was then that Henry reminded him of that.

But being reminded of what kind of man he wanted to be was far from _being_ the man he wanted to be. Yes, he stood up to Regina but that in no way meant he wasn't still terrified of her. Yes, Henry had forgiven him for very nearly shattering his fairy tale world but that did not erase what had been done and certainly did not rid Dr. Hopper of his guilt.

When the time came, if push came to shove, could he really be who he so desperately needed to be?

Well, it was something to work on, at least.

Dr. Hopper sighed and glanced longingly at his neglected cup of tea, the remaining puddle near the bottom too cold to enjoy. His peace ruined, he resolved to prepare for Henry's first meeting with him tomorrow. It would be the first since the incident. Rising from his rocking chair, he took his teacup inside.

Archie's home was a humble one, styled much like his office. Hard wood floors creaked with age underfoot. The leaves of his many potted plants rustled with the breeze from open windows. Pongo looked up with a small whine from his spot on the single grass-green couch.

"Pongo, off. Go lay in your bed." Archie waved the dog off of the pillow-covered couch and watched as the Dalmatian made its way down the short hallway to their bedroom with soft clicking footsteps.

With a smile for the dog, he walked into the small kitchen and took his teacup to the sink. He made quick work of cleaning it – he had had enough practice since his dishwasher broke down – and set it next to the sink to dry. Toweling his hands absentmindedly, he stole a glance out of the kitchen window. The lighting bugs were all but gone now. A blue dark had settled in the air pierced by the harsh glow of street lamps. Hanging up his hand towel and straightening his maroon vest, Archie turned off the kitchen light and proceeded to his study.

"Need to write down my observations from the elevator," he mumbled to himself as he reached the room at the end of the hall. He sat at his dark wooden desk and, clicking on a lamp, pulled out his file box and flipped through it. "Now, where did I put those notes…" Removing all of the M's, he shuffled through the pile of files he had laid out on his desk but did not find any labeled "Mills, Henry."

"Crumbs," he grumbled, "must have left it at the office."

Dr. Hopper looked at the cuckoo clock on the wall: nine twenty-five. Still early enough for a quick walk to his office and back, he decided. Gathering up his coat and umbrella, he made his way to the front door where he found Pongo waiting, leash in mouth.

"You always know, don't you?" Archie chuckled, stooped to the dog's eye level and gave him a pat on the head before attaching the leash. "Good boy, Pongo."

Archie lived in a small residential corner near the edge of downtown, between the businesses and the woods. The walk to his office was long, but that never bothered Dr. Hopper. The road was scenic, trailing along the edge of the woods before turning just short of the docks into town. Pongo was always a willing walking partner and his ever-present umbrella, a shield against the frequent rain.

Dr. Hopper paused after some time and looked out over a clearing to the woods. The cricket's chirping was loudest here and, it seemed, most calming. The strangest urge to go walking through the trees flickered through his mind, but he shook the thought away. It was certainly too dark now to go wandering aimlessly through the woods. Besides, he still had to get his notes from his office and return home with Pongo.

He let his gaze sweep across the clearing one last time before his eyes were drawn skyward. There, sitting just above the tree line, was a brightly twinkling star. Wringing Pongo's leash, he lost himself in the glow. After a moment, he tore his gaze away and shook his head, chuckling at himself. Had he really considered wishing upon a star? That was rather _Jiminy Cricket _of him. His sessions with Henry must be leaving a lasting impression. Though …

Thoughts of his experience with Henry in the mineshaft surfaced again and brought back the self-doubt and the questions. Frustrated, he took a few hurried steps forward but stopped again to look at the star.

_It would be a benefit to Henry if you could see how he sees the world. _A little voice seemed to whisper in his ear. _Stand in his shoes for a moment. Maybe if you wished once – just once – you could begin to understand him._

"What harm could there be?" he reasoned with himself. "I-I wish…" Feeling foolish, he glanced around to find he was quite alone on the street, excluding Pongo. He nervously patted the Dalmatian's head and wondered what he could possibly wish for. "I wish…" He looked back to the star and swallowed his inexplicable jitters. "I wish I could see myself as Henry sees me, if only for a day. I want to – to understand _why_ he thinks the way he does." He finally blurted and squeezed his eyes shut. After a moment, he opened his eyes again.

The star twinkled as it always had. The crickets still sung. The wind still blew.

Nothing had changed.

Dr. Hopper released the breath he hadn't known he was holding and looked to the ground. Of course nothing had changed. It was just a star. So, why was it disappointing?

Feeling more than a little silly and glad no one had witnessed his outburst, he pushed himself the rest of the walk into town.

Finally turning onto Main Street, Dr. Hopper sighed, glad to slow his pace. He had just reached Granny's Diner when he heard someone shout.

"Dr. Hopper!"

"Oh, Ms. Swan, "Archie greeted, turning to see the blonde jogging towards him. "Good evening."

"Evening," she replied, "Hey, are you busy?" she asked, putting her hands on her hips.

"No, no, it's fine." Dr. Hopper smiled at the woman who had saved both Henry's and his own life. "Just taking a stroll to the office. What's on your mind?"

"Oh, it's nothing like that." She gave him a don't-psychoanalyze-me look, hooking her thumbs in her red jacket pockets, "I just wanted to thank you. Things were crazy for a while there and I – I didn't really get to say thank you for finding Henry."

"Honestly, _he_ found _me_ in those tunnels –," Dr. Hopper admitted, glancing at his shoes before meeting the boy's birth mother's eyes again.

"That isn't all." Emma continued seriously, "I heard what you said to Regina. That had to have taken a lot, considering the kind of grip she has on people in this town. So, thanks for that. Henry was glad to have you back in on Operation Cobra." Emma put a hand on Archie's sleeve and squeezed lightly, "You really mean a lot to him, you know."

A strangely warm breeze blew through the street, passing around the two, giving a charge to the air and suspending their thoughts. After a moment, the breeze passed and Emma released Dr. Hopper's arm.

"Do I?" Archie whispered as he looked to the sky and chuckled with a grin, tapping his shoulder with the hook of his umbrella before looking back at the rookie deputy, "Henry is an incredible boy. With the right guidance, I am sure he will grow up to be a very good man. I'm glad that I am able to – I will do whatever I can for him," he promised.

"Glad to hear it." Emma gave him a thoughtful look. "Anyway, Mary Margret's waiting for me over at Granny's." she pointed back with her thumb. Mary waved at the two of them and Archie raised a hand in return. "Keep up the good work, Doc."

"No, no, I'm not Doc. I'm _Jiminy Cricket_, remember?" Archie joked with a smile.

"How could I forget?" Emma rolled her eyes, "I'll see you around." With that she turned to walk back to the diner.

"Have a good evening, Ms. Swan," Archie called in farewell. He then, feeling warmer than he had all evening, turned away with a grin and crossed the street.

The long brick building opposite Marine Garage sported a number of shop fronts, and there, above the Purbeck Shoe Shop, was his office, on the corner of Second and Main. A simple glass door, directly across from Granny's Diner, stood with a sign – "Dr. Archibald Hopper, M.D. Psychiatrist" written in a dull gold – hung in welcome.

"Hold on Pongo," Archie tried to sooth the excited dog, fumbling with his umbrella, leash, and keys. Getting the keys untangled from the rest, he unlocked the door with a click and pulled. "Alright. Alright, up you go" he said, letting Pongo run up the stairs and down the long hallway to his office door.

Upon finally entering his office, Archie let Pongo off of his leash. Chuckling at the dog, he hung his coat and umbrella up on the coat rack, and strode over to his filing cabinet. Dr. Hopper opened the drawer and flipped through the M's. There it was, file 650. After checking and rechecking the worn out folder he failed to find the recent notes he had for Henry. Where _had_ he put that book? Closing the drawer with a _snap_, he scanned the room.

"Ah!" he exclaimed with a smile. The book of notes was laid out neatly on the coffee table. He walked to the couch and, sitting next to Pongo, picked up the leather bound book. Taking a fountain pen from his pocket, he opened the book to his most recent entry.

Dr. Hopper marked the date of the mineshaft incident and described all he could remember leading up to and during the event. His writing slowed and finally stopped as his recollection caught up with the present. Rereading it with a nod, he neatly scribbled _Check for any stress relating to the mine incident. _After remembering what Emma said, he continued._ Let him talk about whatever he wants. Give him time before going back to the importance of the "curse" as truth. _Shutting the book, he took off his glasses and rubbed his face. All the sudden, he felt exhausted.

"Oh, Pongo," Dr. Hopper sighed with a smile and, replacing his spectacles, rubbed the resting Dalmatian's ear, "What am I going to do with you?" He glanced and the clock and winced; it was nearly midnight. Archie squeezed his eyes shut and yawned, "Or me, for that matter?"

The clock tower outside began to toll the hour reminding the physiatrist of his rather urgent need to return home.

"Come on, boy," he patted the dog's back and stood, "we ought to head h- oh." He put a hand to his woozy head and stumbled back against the couch. The bells continued to peal loudly as he fell back onto the cushions and groaned. Pongo, perhaps sensing there was something wrong, jumped off of the couch and pressed his nose against his master's knee.

"Pongo?" Dr. Hopper asked in confusion as his vision faded. The bell toll ceased.

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**With the second part of season two coming up, I figured I should get moving on this. And after seeing the sneak peek… I can only hope for the best.**

**Read and Review please.**


	2. Green and Other Differences

"**Once Upon a Time" and any characters featured in the show belong to their proper owners, in other words, not me.**

**Thank you to those who have already clicked the favorite, follow, and/or review buttons. **

**A very special Thank You to Kedi who has been a huge help in my writing process since the idea stage. **

* * *

Freedom.

For the first time in his life, Jiminy was truly free. Never again would he steal. Never again would he have to crumple under his parents' will. Never again would they tell him _what _he was or _who_ he was. The Blue Fairy changed all of that. Now Jiminy was a cricket – the freest of creatures; he'd thought so since childhood – with nothing but the shirt on his back and the umbrella a boy gave him; the boy he was meant to find. Geppetto.

Jiminy stood on the fence where he had been transformed, taking in the scenery and the sound of the crickets around him. The trees swayed in the wind, leaves rustled lightly. The two wagon horses snorted and pawed the ground, still startled by the bright light of magic. The Blue Fairy had already returned to the skies, wishing him luck and farewell. The cricket rubbed his three-fingered hands together happily. It was high time for him to leave his old life behind and begin again.

"Jiminy!" he heard his mother's voice come from their wagon, "Jiminy! Go fetch the horses' water. We have a long journey to the Harvest Festival."

"Yes," his father's voice followed, "our rot-be-gone always does well this time of year." The two laughed together, no doubt reveling in their latest scheme.

Jiminy did not feel the need to hide. He just shook his head with a cricket smile and slung his umbrella over his shoulder. He was sure his parents would make do just fine without him. Even in hard times, they had always found a way to steal from those with nothing. No, his disappearance would only be a temporary inconvenience. They would certainly find another kind-hearted fool to care for them.

Fluttering to the ground with ease and a giddy feeling, he turned back to the road leading to the boy's home. He and his parents had only travelled a day's distance from the town in which the boy lived. Jiminy had threatened to leave only to be blackmailed into staying with them the entire trip. Jiminy tucked his umbrella across his back and looked far down the forest road. He was sure for a cricket it would be quite a long journey. For a cricket…

"Ha ha!" Jiminy laughed aloud. He was a cricket. Imagine! The son of puppeteers and thieves had met the Blue Fairy herself and was granted his wish. While it was not the wish he had intended – the life of the boy's parents – it was close wasn't it? He would right the wrong he had done in this new form. Giving himself another onceover, he flexed his legs and jumped. With a shout of delight, he rushed through the air. Just before hitting the ground, he stretched his wings and slowed his descent. "Amazing," he whispered to himself. He could go _anywhere_ like this, do _anything…_

_No_, he shook his head, he had a responsibility to the boy he had unintentionally orphaned, the kind boy who taught him how to listen to crickets again. Guilt rose in his chest but he could do something about it now. With that thought as fuel, he raced away from his parents' carriage and onward into the night.

* * *

Dr. Hopper awoke as the sun's bright rays filtered through the blinds in his office and passed over his eyes. Chuckling to himself, he realized he must have been so worn out that he'd fallen asleep on his office couch. He should have known to not strain himself so soon after a life-threatening experience. Looking to the window, he thanked his lucky stars it didn't look so late in the morning. Perhaps, if he hurried home, he could change into fresh clothes before Henry's ten o'clock session.

"Pongo?" Archie called, sitting up. Sleep still making his voice a hoarse whisper, "Pongo, I have to take you home. Where are –" A flash of green above him caught his eye. The slim object twitched lower joined by another. "What on earth?" The green things twitched again in and out of sight in front of his face. He raised a hand to grab the offending objects but stopped dead as he caught sight of it.

Green. Three green fingers covered in a carapace. Shutters began building in his frame as he raised the other to find it was the same. A nervous yelp escaped him and he jumped up. The action only made matters worse as he immediately discovered his legs no longer functioned as he was accustomed and he flopped unceremoniously back onto the couch. Rolling onto his stomach, he struggled to stand again, fumbling until his also-green feet were properly under him.

"Wh-what? What is –?" was all he could muster as he looked down at himself. He still wore his cream, pinstripe button-up, tie, and maroon sweater vest but those were the only familiar features. The rest of him was all green, shell, and twig-like limbs. He patted his face and, to his increasing horror, found it had changed as well. He was not only missing his glasses but also his nose and ears. In place of his hair, were the two long, twitching things that made him nearly jump out of his skin when he brushed over them.

Looking around in panic, he caught his faint reflection in a glass of water on the nearby table. "What?" He whispered, not believing – not wanting to believe what he saw there. Walking towards the cup, he tried to find something that could contradict the image that stared back at him. Instead, the image became more defined and with it a clarity that confirmed his fears. Though certainly anthropomorphized, there was no denying what he looked like. He was … He waved and the image waved back.

"I-I must be dreaming!" Dr. Hopper reasoned, turning from his reflection and clasping his shaking hands together. "I'm still asleep and my subconscious is basing it on Henry's beliefs. The strain of the experience in the mine and dealing with Regina are creating this. There can be no other explanation for being – for turning into a _cricket_." He turned back to the glass and the reflection there. There could be no denying dream or not that what he saw seemed real. Frighteningly real.

Archie quickly found another reason to be terrified. The glass, normally only an arm's length from the couch seemed a half-dozen yards away and the couch abnormally gigantic. _The shrink has shrunk. _He would have laughed at the absurdity if he weren't so scared.

A sudden, muffled thump from behind Archie shook him and the couch cushion sunk from underneath Dr. Hopper's still unstable legs. He tumbled ungracefully backwards and hit something large and furry. Placing a hand on his – he realized with some dread – _sore_ head, he looked up and froze.

"Pongo!" Archie unconsciously released a frightened chirp and jumped away from the enormous dog.

The dog's ears perked up and he bent to sniff the now-cricket.

"Now, Pongo," Dr. Hopper tried to remain calm as he pushed the giant wet nose away, "Sit. Be a good boy. You wouldn't want to accidentally hurt me or," he swallowed nervously, "eat me, would you?"

Instead of sitting, the dog sneezed and lowered into a play bow, waging his tail excitedly. If Dr. Hopper's newly acquired antennae could fall off in fright, they would have.

"Oh dear…" Archie chirped weakly.

* * *

Saturday morning. For Henry, it meant no school, secretly meeting Emma at Granny's Diner to discuss Operation Cobra (and drink hot chocolate), and a 10AM session with Archie, a.k.a. Jiminy Cricket – whether he knew it or not. It would have been a perfect, sunny Saturday, but –

"Henry, pick up the pace. You're going to be late for your session." Regina walked briskly in front of him, leading the way to the stairway entrance.

– the Evil Queen decided to come along.

"Mom, you really don't have to walk me inside." Henry argued.

"Nonsense," she opened the door with a forced smile and ushered Henry inside, "Besides, I want to have another little _chat_ with Dr. Hopper." She said the psychiatrist's name with barely contained venom.

Henry ran up the stairs in front of her, shouting behind him. "Archie's my friend. Why can't you just leave him alone and not say anything… _unpleasant_ to him?" He gave her a knowing look.

"Oh, I don't intend to _say_ anything of the sort." She growled, following him up the stairs at a slower pace.

"I had a feeling you'd say that." Henry mumbled as he opened the door to his psychiatrist's office. The sight that greeted him left him with his jaw on the floor.

"Pongo, sit." A cricket in a rather ruffled maroon sweater-vest scolded the dog from atop a tall bookcase. "No more games now. Behave." The Dalmatian barked and sat but turned to look at the boy in the doorway.

"Archie?"

The cricket jumped and twisted to look at the door. "Henry! Oh, um, oh boy…" He hastily ducked behind a large model ship as he tried to straighten the vest.

"Henry? What's going on?" Regina Mills asked, nearly to the door.

"Nothing!" Henry jumped inside the room and half-shut the door, "I just want to start the session already. You'll have to wait on that talk." He pushed the door shut and locked it.

"Henry… Open the door." Regina ordered calmly.

"Why? Don't you have mayor things to get to?" Henry asked, suddenly sounding a lot like his birth mother.

There was a dangerous pause, and then, "We're going to have a _talk_ about this at home."

"I'll talk about it with Archie." Henry rolled his eyes, "That's what you send me here for anyway."

After a moment of tense silence, "I'll see you _at home,_ Henry," and sharp, clicking footsteps led away from the door and out of earshot.

Henry breathed a sigh of relief and smiled. "That was a close one, Archie – er, I guess you're Jiminy now." He turned and walked up to the bookcase. Gesturing to the door, he continued, "If my mom saw you like this, she probably would have tried squashing you."

"Henry," the cricket hesitated and, rapping his knuckles together, "I'm not… Jiminy Cricket."

Henry looked taken aback, "You mean you_ still_ don't remember?"

Dr. Hopper shook his head.

"Then why would you be a cricket?" Henry wondered aloud. "I know Emma's weakening the curse, but I didn't think anything like this would happen." Then Henry looked up. "Wait… Why are you on a _bookcase_?"

"Uh, Pongo," Archie nodded to the dog laying innocently on the ground, "Got a bit wound up." He chuckled nervously, "He didn't mean any harm but I, um, climbed up the books to avoid being his chew toy." He fingered a large wet stain on the sleeve of his pinstriped shirt.

"Are you okay?" Henry asked.

"Oh yes, I'm fine. Thank you." Dr. Hopper nodded, antennae twitching lower in front of his eyes. He knew the boy wasn't _really_ asking about his arm.

Giving up on the wet sleeve, Archie walked towards the edge of the bookcase, "Hmm… How am I supposed to get down?" he asked looking over the edge like it was an enormous cliff-face, which to him it was. "I didn't really think of that when I climbed up here." He chuckled.

"Well, you have wings, don't you?" Henry shrugged, looking up at him.

"Do I?" Archie turned in a circle and nearly fell off the edge when he accidentally flapped them. "Well, would you look at that! I – I do!"

"So, use them." Henry grinned.

"I…" Dr. Hopper, wringing his hands together, looked over the edge again and shook his head, "Henry, I'm not – not too sure I can."

"You _can_." Henry insisted, "You're Jiminy Cricket. Just believe you can and you will."

"Well, I'm _a_ cricket, certainly. I can't deny _that_…" Archie reminded himself. Taking one last look over the ledge, he took a deep breath and jumped. He fell.

"Watch out!" Henry leapt forward and caught him mid-fall. Perplexed, he frowned at the recovering therapist on his palms. "You have to _flap_ them to get them to _work_. Here," he placed Dr. Hopper on the headrest of the couch, "maybe you need to start out smaller. Fly over to the table there."

Dr. Hopper's wings fluttered with anxiety and produced a quiet hum he tried to ignore. "Henry, I don't think –"

"Exactly! Don't think." Henry nudged him off the edge of the couch.

Archie shouted in surprise and his wings snapped open and beat. He wasn't falling. He was – well, he was hovering, which was a start.

"See? Archie! You just have to believe you can." Henry jumped for joy, giving Archie his biggest, brightest smile.

"Ha ha!" Archie laughed, clumsily landing on and stumbling across the coffee table, silver wings still fluttering in excitement, "Henry! Henry, that was incredible! I mean, apart from it being, well – terrifying, I'll admit. But it's so… so –"

"Magical?" Henry finished with a happy I-told-you-so smirk.

"Yes." Archie suddenly found himself seeing Henry in a new light, a frighteningly truthful light. "Yes, I suppose it is."

Henry, after giving Pongo a pat on the head, walked over to his usual spot on the couch and plopped down.

Flexing his wings again, Dr. Hopper pushed himself into the air and unsteadily flew to the armrest next the boy.

"Henry," he started, shuffling his feet after landing, "I – I have to be honest. I'm a bit out of my depth here. I mean, this…" he gestured to his changed body, "this is like something out of a fairytale! _Your_ fairytale." He emphasized, placing a hand on the cuff of Henry's sleeve.

"So," Henry's eyes widened in understanding, "you believe me?"

"Honestly, I want this to be some sort of dream, but seeing as it probably isn't… How could I not?" Archie shrugged, "You said you were looking for proof. What more proof could I ask of you?" Archie chuckled somewhat resigned, "What I mean to say – I-I don't really understand what this means for me, or the whole _town_ for that matter, if what you've been telling me about the curse is all true. If- If I'm really…"

"Jiminy Cricket." Henry offered.

Dr. Hopper nodded and swallowed. "If I really am Jiminy Cricket… from a story book… a story book character," he put a hand to his head in disbelief as his heart dropped to his stomach.

Seeing his therapist' s hesitation, Henry crossed his arms and leaned back, disregarding the crunch of a breaking Apollo bar in his backpack.

"Yeah, this has to be really confusing for you." Henry frowned, thinking aloud, "You still don't remember who you are, but now you are what you used to be: a cricket." Looking back at Dr. Hopper, he asked, "Do you know how this happened?" – Archie shook his head – "Maybe you did something you don't usually do?"

"There was something, but would it –?"

"What?" Henry asked, excitedly leaning towards the cricket.

"I just wished is all," Archie nearly whispered, "I wished on a star."

"That's got to be it!" Henry exclaimed, scooping up the cricket therapist and placing him on his shoulder. "You have to show me where it happened!" he said, running to the office door.

"H-hold on a moment!" Dr. Hopper grabbed Henry's ear for support, "Henry, how am I supposed to go around town like this? And what about Pongo?"

Henry stopped at the door, thinking. Then, grabbing Pongo's leash, "Well, take Pongo to the Sheriff's office. I'll just let Emma know Pongo needs to be watched for a little while." He hooked the leash to Pongo's collar and went for the door again.

"Henry!" Archie took to the air, hovering back.

"What's wrong, Archie? We gotta go see where you made the wish. There could be more clues there. Clues that can help Emma break the curse!" Henry urged Dr. Hopper forward.

"I'm sorry, Henry, but how am I supposed to go outside like this?" Archie landed on the desk beside the door, already winded from his impromptu flight. He stepped behind a magnifying glass and tugged on his vest nervously. "Henry, I'm a cricket and – and that honestly scares me. Nothing is the same for me now. Everything is a whole lot bigger," he finished in a small voice.

Henry offered his hand to the cricket on the desk and Archie stepped onto it. The boy raised his troubled therapist up and looked him in the eye.

"You can trust me, Archie. I won't let anything bad happen to you." Henry grinned and laughed to himself. "Besides, my mom is the savior of Storybrooke and my grandparents are Snow White and Prince Charming. I think I have protecting in my genes."

Dr. Hopper hesitated, antennae twitching in thought. Henry sighed and, offering his shoulder to Archie again, opened the door.

"One step at a time." The boy promised.

"Okay." Archie nodded, grabbing hold of Henry's ear again. What had he gotten himself into?

* * *

**So, how do you like it? Just a thought that has been trying to get out for a while. **

**The next update will not be as quick as this one but I promise to work steadily on this. (New Year's Resolution and all that jazz.) You are allowed to nag at me if I don't .**

**Read and Review, please. **


	3. Making Plans

"**Once Upon a Time" and any characters featured in the show belong to their proper owners, in other words, not me.**

**Thanks again to Kedi and all those who have read this fan fiction.**

* * *

Henry burst into the sheriff's office with Pongo trotting behind.

"Hi Emma!" he greeted his birth mother and deputy of Storybrooke.

"Kid? What are you doing here?" Emma strode to Henry and put her hands on his shoulders, "You okay?"

"Yeah, fine." Henry said cheerfully. He shrugged off her hands and hastily whispered, "More importantly –"

"Henry?" the sheriff stuck his head out of his office. Stepping into the main office area with his usual swagger, Graham crossed his arms, "Shouldn't you be at your appointment with Dr. Hopper now?"

"Oh, we – uh – ended the session early." Henry said, trying not to meet Graham's eyes. "Actually, Archie needed to go to _Boston_ today. He said something about a book. Pongo couldn't just stay at his office, so I offered to bring him here. He needs someone to watch him until he gets back."

"Boston, huh?" Emma lifted an eyebrow, recognizing the hint behind Henry's words.

"Well, today's been pretty slow. I don't see the harm of Pongo hanging around." Graham took Pongo's leash and led him to his office, "It'll be a refreshing change to have another guy to talk to." He sent Emma a teasing grin. The deputy rolled her eyes and shot an annoyed glare back at her boss.

Henry pulled on Emma's sleeve and waved a hand toward his face. Emma inclined her ear, confusion clear on her features.

"Something big has happened!" Henry whispered excitedly, "Operation Cobra: Code Green! Bigger than the mine collapsing! But I have to gather more details. Meet me at Granny's Diner in an hour."

Emma stood and looked like she was going to argue. At his determined stare she raised her hands in defeat. "Alright. Granny's in an hour." She grabbed the back of Henry's ever-present, gray backpack before he could dart off, "First, promise you're not going to be running around getting trapped in mineshafts or worse."

"I promise." Henry nodded. When Emma didn't immediately let go he reasoned, "I have my walkie-talkie. I'll call you if I get into trouble." After searching for any falsehood on the boy's face, Emma released him. He smiled brightly and bolted from the office. "See you in an hour!" he called back to Emma as he ran out the door.

"You better!" Emma shouted back, "If you aren't there, I'm going to start looking for you in the mines!"

The deputy put her hands on her hips and turned away from the door. Graham stood leaning against his desk and smirked.

"What?" Emma challenged him.

Graham raised his hands in mock defense. "Oh, just admiring your parenting skills."

"Shut up." Emma growled half-heartedly and returned to her work.

Outside the sheriff's office, Henry knelt down next to a potted fern. The boy glanced around taking extra precaution to keep his back toward the office before holding out his hand. "All clear. Sheriff Graham will look after Pongo for now. Emma said she'll be at Granny's in an hour."

Archie ducked out from behind a leaf-covered branch and kicked the dirt off his feet before stepping onto the boy's palm. First hiding in Henry's hood then a decorative plant, two things he never thought he would have to do – besides learning how to operate backwards legs and wings, of course.

"I'm going to need a drink after all this," the cricket mumbled to himself. 

"What?" Henry asked, not quite hearing him.

"Oh! Um," Archie shook his head and straightened his vest, "Just feeling a bit parched is all," his whisper of a voice made the fib believable enough, "I'll be fine." Dr. Hopper hated to lie to the boy, but under the circumstances…

Henry stood with a shrug, lifted his therapist-turned-cricket, and placed him on his shoulder. With another cautious glance around, Henry left the station and turned toward the Library.

"Now," Henry started in his let's-get-down-to-business voice, "We have to retrace your steps last night. What were you doing before you made your wish?"

Dr. Hopper's antennae twitched in thought. "I was home. I was," he chuckled and looked up at Henry, "I was thinking about what you said to me in the elevator down in the mines." _Everything you've ever told me about the curse was true…_

"Okay," Henry picked up his speed; "We can start looking around your house first. What did you do next?"

"I walked with Pongo to my office. It was my usual route." Archie added, glancing at the Storybrooke clock tower. Henry mentioned in one of his recent sessions that Emma made the clock move again; he claimed it was a sign the curse was weakening. It was so strange to think of curses and magic and fairytale characters as truth. _Well,_ Dr. Hopper supposed, _no stranger than anything else today._

"In that case, we'll take your route back then make our way to Granny's to meet Emma." Henry stated with a grin. The boy had a knack for making plans. "Even if we don't find anything right away, you're still a cricket. That's got to be proof enough."

After a long silence in thought, Archie spoke up, "Henry, I know I'm a – a cricket and this seems so silly to ask now. Do you really think I could be Jiminy Cricket? What I mean to say is – how… how could I forget being someone else?"

Henry slowed and looked over at Archie. "I _know_ you're Jiminy Cricket. It's just this curse," he insisted as they passed a hardware store, "It keeps you from remembering who you are. Who you really are – Someone's coming out of the shop!" Henry turned suddenly to shield Archie from sight, "Hide! You can come back out when we're closer to your house."

Dr. Hopper did as he was told, jumping into Henry's blue hood. He didn't want to imagine what would happen if someone saw him on Henry's shoulder. Jiminy Cricket or not, he doubted he could stand up against a rolled-up newspaper now.

Sinking down into the fabric, Archie chuckled at his predicament, "Being a cricket must have been easier before the curse."

* * *

Two days had passed and on the morning of the third, Jiminy found himself in front of the little house where he had last seen the boy. He stood far from the door, afraid to confront the child. He'd taken Geppetto's family from him. Intentional or not, how could the boy ever forgive him for what he'd done?

Did that matter? Forgiven or no, Jiminy had an obligation to care for the child. Nervousness could not get in the way of it.

Taking to the air, Jiminy flew to the window and looked inside. No… it couldn't be.

The house was dark. No fire burned in the hearth. It was as empty as he and his parents had left it – more so. The child and the puppet remains of his parents were gone.

Gone.

"No," Jiminy muttered, "Oh no, where could he go?" He fluttered to another window; still nothing. "He's only a child. Where…" Then he remembered. Yes, there was a little town nearby; his parents had performed there. The boy could have gone nowhere else; it was the only town for miles. It wasn't far down the road, Jiminy could just smell the smoke and various cooked foods of the marketplace.

There had to be someone there who knew where the boy went.

Flying as fast as his wings would carry him, he sped through the trees until he spotted the edge of the market. Men, women, and children were awake and walking through the streets, already buying and selling wares. Jiminy flew to the closest stall. A portly woman was busy sweeping bits of dust and hay from beneath her assortment of freshly picked gourds.

"Pardon me, Ma'am." Jiminy landed on a large pumpkin and waved to get the elder woman's attention, "I am looking for a young boy who lives not far from here and –,"

"Ugh! A cricket." The old woman frowned, brushing her thick hands on her dust-covered apron, "Shoo, you blasted thing. I'll have no bugs in my produce."

"Y-yes, ma'am." Jiminy held up his hands in apology, "I am a cricket, but I mean no harm to your business. I just need to know if you've seen a boy named Geppetto."

The woman turned and grabbed her broom, "I said off with you!" With a swift sweeping motion, she knocked Jiminy off of the stall and sent him to the ground.

"Oof!" Jiminy landed roughly on his back. Picking himself back up again, his shook the dust off of his wings and brushed the dirt from his shoulders. _The nerve of that woman_, he grumbled to himself. Hadn't she heard him? He urgently needed to find Geppetto. Who knows where the boy could have gone in four days' time?

Giving up on the old stall woman, he flew to a nearby blacksmith's bench. Landing on the grinding stone, he called over to the burly smith.

"Sir!"

The smith straightened up and turned about, not quite looking at Jiminy.

"Sir!" Jiminy repeated louder and was glad to get the smith's attention. "I'm looking for a boy. He lived not far from here. Recently orphaned? A young lad." Jiminy tried to explain.

"Another cricket," the smith seemed to mutter to himself, "too many this harvesting season." He turned with a grunt and continued hammering a lump of glowing iron.

Antennae twitching in frustration, Jiminy flew in front of the man, hovering at his eye level.

"Didn't you hear me?" Jiminy pleaded, "I must find the child!"

"Shoo!" The smith swatted at him with his hammer, nearly pummeling the poor cricket.

Still in the air, Jiminy turned to the nearest person, a woman with a basket of carrots. "Miss, I'm looking for a little boy." She ducked and scampered away from him with a squeak of surprise. Turning again to a young man in a shabby vest, "I need to find a boy named Geppetto. Can you understand me?" The man walked away, saying nothing. Jiminy flew to a nearby table full of villagers eating and talking. Landing in the middle, he shouted, "Can any of you understand me?" Jumping in unison, the villagers swatted and swiped at Jiminy until a chunk of bread connected with his chest and he fell to the ground.

"Why aren't they listening?" Jiminy asked in dismay, as he untangled himself from the pile of hay in which he had landed.

"They can't hear you," came a soft reply from behind him.

Jiminy twisted around, finding himself dwarfed by a kneeling woman. She offered a slender hand on which he gratefully hopped.

"People in these parts do not hear magical creatures. Gifted animals are far more common in the north where the Forest is more dense and dark." She grunted as she stood with difficulty, putting her other hand on her bulging belly. "You are not a gifted animal, though, I can tell that much. What _could_ you have done to be cursed like this?"

"I was not cursed," Jiminy corrected her, relieved at being understood, "I chose this. I … I have a debt to repay."

"Ah," she nodded thoughtfully as she walked towards a small shop front on the edge of the market. "So, you have done something."

"Yes," he admitted sadly, flying off of her hand and to a windowsill, "I cursed a child's parents with a poison meant for my own. I have to find him. The Blue Fairy –"

"The Blue Fairy? I thought the Reul Ghorm was a myth," the pregnant woman sat on a small bench beside the window.

"As did I, but she is very real and very kind." Jiminy picked at his jacket as he continued, "She … could not undo the damage I had done, but she gave me a chance to care for the boy. By giving me another form, I could escape my parents and find him."

"She did more than that, it seems," the woman gave Jiminy a pitying look before turning her gaze to her swollen abdomen. "What is your name?"

"Jiminy," the cricket fluttered down to stand beside the woman, "and yours?"

"Clarisse, after my grandmother." She turned and, seeing Jiminy's gaze, she laughed softly, "I'm expected any time now. My mother-in-law says I am having twins."

"Oh! Congratulations. Sorry, I didn't mean to pry." Jiminy looked back towards the market, suddenly reminded of his predicament.

"The boy…" Clarisse asked, getting the cricket's attention, "he was from here?"

"Yes," Jiminy said, hope rising in his chest, "he was a young boy. He and his parents lived in a small house not too far into the woods. His name is –,"

"Geppetto?"

"You know him?" Jiminy took to the air excitedly, hovering in front of the woman's face.

"I know _of_ him." She corrected. "After the disappearance of his parents, the cobbler's wife brought him here. He claimed his parents were transformed into puppets… you did that." Jiminy visibly deflated, nodding. "Most folks assumed his parents abandoned him. You could imagine the shock. Those who knew them say they were good folk, albeit private. He has family in the north and was taken by the tradesmen two days ago."

"Two days?" Jiminy asked in despair and dropped back to the bench. The tradesmen traveled by ox driven carts and horseback. He had heard throughout his childhood that the land a tradesman could traverse in a day was easily double that of a walking man. Who knows how far they'd gone? How could he possibly catch up as a cricket? "Do you know where the boy's family lives?"

"I do not. As I said, I only knew of him. The only one who would know is the cobbler's wife, but she went with him to ensure his safety." Seeing the life fly from the cricket's black eyes, she lightly brushed his back with her thumb. "Don't lose hope, Jiminy. I may still be able to help you. You see, once my children are born and strong enough for travel, my husband and I will go to my childhood home. It is a village in the far north. If you wish, you can travel with us until you find the tradesmen. I'm sure they will remember where the boy left them."

"You would do that for me?" Jiminy asked, overcome by her offer.

"Yes." Clarisse nodded and looked back to the marketplace, "You are not the first cursed being I've met. Kindness is a rare treasure for them."

"I was not cursed." Jiminy insisted quietly. Clarisse only nodded and rubbed circles on her stomach.

* * *

**Thanks for reading. Let me know what you think. **

**And just a thought: I've noticed a boom in Archie related stories. I have to say it pleases me greatly. **


	4. An Old Story

**I do not own Once Upon a Time.**

**Thanks again Kedi for being my awesome Beta. **

**Enjoy the chapter!**

* * *

Henry dashed across the street, finally leaving downtown Storybrooke behind for the residential area. Pleasant looking houses lined the winding streets. Green grass and quaint, little gardens surrounded by miniature fences ran along the walkway. The occasional garden gnome smiled from behind bushes and flower beds. It was the picture of a friendly neighborhood. Slowing to a walk, the boy hopped onto the sidewalk and turned toward the distant woods and Dr. Hopper's home.

"You can come out now, Archie." Henry called back as he tugged the hood open.

Dr. Hopper clambered out of the hood with a grateful sigh. Leaning forward against the back of Henry's shoulder, he put a hand on his head, "I never knew one could get so motion sick in a hoodie." After a pause, he laughed, "I didn't know crickets could get motion sick." He shook his head cheerfully as he clambered up to stand on the boy's shoulder, "This is all very new to me."

"I don't think so. You just gotta –" Henry grinned mischievously and twisted around, robbing his psychiatrist of his perch. Archie yelped in surprise as he fell back, instinctively spreading his wings and catching himself in the air.

"Ha! See? It really isn't new to you." Henry corrected, walking backwards and beaming at the hovering cricket, "I guess it's like riding a bike. I mean, look at you! You haven't been a cricket again for a _day_ and you're flying like a natural."

"I-I suppose you're right," Archie agreed and looked back at his fluttering wings. It wasn't _completely_ foreign to him. It should have unnerved him – this whole impossible experience – but it was strangely exciting. Dr. Hopper smiled to himself; Henry's argument certainly seemed convincing now…

"I wonder how fast you can fly," Henry thought aloud, grabbing the straps of his backpack. Looking down the street, he spotted the doctor's modest home tucked away at the edge of the wood. "Race you!" he shouted and bolted down the sidewalk.

"Um, Henry… Henry!" Archie sputtered, suddenly feeling vulnerable without the boy. The cricket flew after Henry as fast as his wings would carry him, "Don't – don't run near the road," he finished weakly.

"Come on, slow poke!" Henry called to Dr. Hopper as he reached the front porch. He took off his backpack and put it on the rocking chair, smiling as Archie landed less than gracefully on the porch railing. The cricket put a hand to his chest, trying to catch his breath, and looked up at the house. It was strange. He'd only been human the night before. If he'd known he would turn into a cricket the next morning he probably would have taken the time to water his plants. The psychiatrist-turned-cricket nearly laughed at himself. Of all things he could have done if he had known and he was worried about his plants. At least he had made sure to lock up before leaving for his office – _Ah_, he realized, _that could be a problem_. Just as Archie went to mention the locked door, Henry twisted on the knob in vain. The boy deflated and turned to Dr. Hopper.

"You wouldn't happen to have the keys on you?" Henry asked, scrunching his nose in obvious understanding that it was unlikely Archie would have said keys, seeing as that they were probably half his size.

"Well," Archie shook his head, "I put them in my pant pocket last night, but…" he shifted back and forth on his twig-like legs and joked, "I guess crickets don't need pants."

Henry nodded once and went to the window by the door. Archie joined him, landing on the windowsill with a soft _tap_.

"What exactly are we looking for?" Dr. Hopper asked as Henry looked into the darkened house. Henry cupped his face in his hands, squinting as he peered into Archie's living room.

"Hm," The boy backed away from the window and crossed his arms in thought, "I thought I would know it when I saw it…" he mumbled. Shaking his head, Henry glanced at his cricket therapist, "There's no magic in Storybrooke, at least there isn't supposed to be. I thought you could have run into fairy dust or something like that. I mean, wishes don't just come true here. Fairy dust is one way to help grant a wish," He looked into the window again before abandoning it with a sigh, "but I've never actually seen fairy dust. The only person who _might_ have some would be the Evil Queen. But I guess if she had some, she wouldn't show me."

Dr. Hopper froze. He'd completely forgotten. Henry claimed his adoptive mother, Regina Mills, and _mayor_ of Storybrooke was the Evil Queen from the story of Snow White. Henry had told him over and over that it was the Evil Queen who put the curse on all of them, himself included. And if he was right about the curse –

"Come on, Archie." Henry broke the cricket's line of thought. He retrieved his backpack from the rocking chair and hopped off of the porch, "We can look for clues where you made your wish."

"Henry!" Dr. Hopper took to the air, zipping around to hover in front of Henry's face, "Regina, your mother, she's the Evil Queen?"

Nodding, Henry shrugged nonchalantly and raised his cupped hands. Archie dropped onto them. Trying desperately not to fidget with his own hands he looked up into the boy's face.

"I-I can't help but feel _concerned_ for you…" The cricket's wings fluttered nervously with a dry hum. What was he supposed to think? What was he supposed to do? "If-if she really is as powerful as you claim she is –"

"Was." Henry corrected. He put on a confident smile, "The Queen can't use magic here and she has to keep pretending she's just the mayor. The only real power she has she got because people are afraid of her. I think that's a side effect of the curse too," the boy stated easily, nose scrunched up in thought.

"But – and I really don't mean to put you against your mother, uh, adoptive mother; that would be wrong of me – but I want to make sure you are going to be safe." Archie explained, his voice becoming an urgent whisper.

"What can she do? Ground me?" Henry asked with a dismissive shake of his head. He dropped his hands, letting Dr. Hopper fly to his shoulder, and made his way back to the sidewalk. "Trust me. The Evil Queen won't do anything that would blow her cover. She wouldn't take that risk. She already knows I'm on to her, and that's why she's sending me to you." He smiled mischievously, "I bet she'd never expect it to backfire like this."

Dr. Hopper nodded, still unsure but there was nothing more to be said. He knew Regina – the mayor of Storybrooke side of her – well enough to know she cared fiercely for her son even if she was strict - almost distant - with him. Though, Henry's Evil Queen theory made it quite clear why she had ordered the therapist to drive the fairytales from her son's mind. All the pieces seemed to fit together so well now.

"Okay," Archie's antennae twitched forward in thought, "Just – if anything changes – I want you to know that I am here if you need any guidance or support." He bent and patted Henry's shoulder, hoping the gesture was still just as supportive regardless of his size.

Henry beamed, "Here to guide me? You're sounding more and more like Jiminy Cricket."

"Am I?" Archie asked. He chuckled, "I guess it comes with the territory. Oh, speaking of which, I made the wish just there," he pointed to the spot on the road near the clearing.

"By the bench?" Henry asked, squinting as he stepped out of the shade of trees.

"Yes," Archie looked around, the clearing appeared so different in the light of midday. The long grass seemed dry and stiff. Dust danced on the edge of shadows. The shimmer of insect wings hovered over the stalks. It all seemed to hold an ordinary kind of magic. Was this how Henry saw the world? Magic hiding away in little clearings? Fairytale characters trapped behind the familiar face of a neighbor? Dr. Hopper glanced up at his young companion. The smile plastered on the Henry's face was brighter than any he'd seen on the boy in quite some time.

"Stay here a second. Okay, Archie?" Henry shrugged off his backpack and put in on the side of the road, "I'm gonna take a look around."

Dr. Hopper nodded absently, gently lowering himself onto the top of the discarded bag.

Looking around, it was hard to tell this was the same clearing he had passed on so many walks with Pongo. The height difference was certainly the most glaring factor, but there was so much more. A type of familiarity that stirred up... not memories, but a kind of nostalgia. Again that unexplainable urge to walk through the trees pulled at the back of Dr. Hopper's mind. So many of these inexplicable occurrences and so-called coincidences started popping up the day Henry brought his birth mother to Storybrooke, and Dr. Hopper finally had to chance to know why. _Really_ know why. Archie looked up at the boy who was stumbling around the long grass, picking up rocks, and checking around stumps. Henry, the boy with the fairytales and all the answers.

"Henry," Dr. Hopper called, still somewhat lost in thought, "I never asked you about what Jiminy-what _I_ was like before the curse. I can't help but be curious…" Archie paused and lifted back into the air, "You said I wasn't always a cricket or a conscience. What or who was I before?"

The boy looked up from his search in the long grass with a grin. Walking over, he picked up his backpack, laid it on the nearby bench, and sat down.

"I was wondering when you'd ask." Henry removed the large, leather bound book from his bag and placed it on his lap. He beckoned the cricket with a wave, then paused, his hand still on the cover, "Are you sure you're ready? I mean, these stories aren't like the ones in the movies. Bad things happen to good people, and sometimes it can't be fixed with a happily ever after. Your story is no exception."

Dr. Hopper fluttered up to the head of the bench and looked over Henry's shoulder to the book. Patting Henry's back, he nodded, "I want to know."

"Okay. Short version first," Henry opened the book. After a few pages turned, the boy began, "Before you were Jiminy Cricket, you were Jiminy the son of traveling puppeteers and con-men. They made you help steal for them." Skipping a few pages, Henry pointed to an illustration of a dark room and a scaly man holding out a gold thread, "You didn't want to live like that, but you couldn't get away. You kind of made a deal with Rumpelstiltskin." Henry grimaced, "He gave you a potion to poison your parents –"

"Poison my parents?" Archie exclaimed in distress. While he did not remember the people who were Jiminy's parents or the kind of life he had, he could not believe he would ever _kill_ anyone. That was against everything he stood for! He leaned against the boy's shoulder for support as he recovered from the shock. The cricket found himself suddenly lifted into the air and placed on Henry's knee.

"I told you, it took a long time for you to figure out the right thing to do," Henry reminded him softly before continuing, "Besides, you didn't kill your parents. You, uh," he flipped another page, "You accidentally gave the poison to Geppetto's parents. They sort of turned into puppets… Sorry."

"Geppetto? You-you mean Marco?" Archie jumped up on the book and looked down at the illustration.

"Yeah, he was my age. See? He's the boy." Henry tapped the image of a child standing in a cabin's doorway.

"That's impossible," Archie shook his head, looking down at the image of the brown-eyed boy, "I could never do that to – and Marco, he's-well, he's nearly old enough to be my father."

"Emma thought so too. But no, you see, the Blue Fairy gave you a chance to help Geppetto growing up. You wished to be a cricket and his conscience. Then you were Pinocchio's conscience. I guess you never aged." Henry bit his lip in thought, "You're probably twenty years older than Geppetto, er, Marco. Then time was frozen here for twenty-eight years… I think that makes you a little over one hundred years old."

Dr. Hopper suddenly felt weak in the knees and would have fallen back if Henry hadn't held out a finger for support.

"Thank you," Archie mumbled as he steadied himself again. Blowing out a long breath, he brushed his hand against the back of his head. "Is that-is that all?"

"Not really, but it gets better." Henry admitted with a hopeful smile. "You helped Snow White and Prince Charming a few times before they were married and then had your own spot in their Small Council. See? Granny and Red Riding Hood. Geppetto. Doc and Grumpy. The Blue Fairy. And there's you," Henry pointed each person out around the table and tapped the image of a cricket in a top hat last, "Everyone from the stories sat around their round table."

"Ha! I suppose King Arthur was there as well then?" Archie joked. Goodness, who else had Jiminy met?

"King Arthur wasn't the only one with a round table. He just has the famous one," Henry stated seriously.

"Of course," Dr. Hopper nodded with a chuckle and jumped off of the book and onto the bench, pacing lightly.

After a pause, Henry prodded the cricket's back, "I know this is a lot to take in, but you were a pretty big deal before the curse. You were kind of the go-to guy for advice being a conscience and all."

"Yes, yes – just," Dr. Hopper turned back to Henry, shaking his head with a heavy laugh, "Gee wiz, this _is_ a lot to take in."

"_Tell_ me about it," Henry nodded in understanding, "I'm just glad you don't think we're both crazy."

The sun shone brightly down on the bench, illuminating the illustrations of the still open book. A round table in a council room fit for a king. A woman in white seated next to a man in royal garb. Others of different size, shape, and color sat with them. A small bright green figure stood on the edge of the table with his arms raised as he talked into the end of a brass horn. A breeze lifted the corner of the page; Henry flattened it with a thumb and waited quietly for his psychiatrist - no - _friend_ to speak.

A car passed and seemed to startle the man-turned-cricket out of his thoughts.

"How very normal," Dr. Hopper chuckled to himself as he watch the SUV disappear around a curve back toward downtown Storybrooke. Archie had seen so many take that same left turn back into the center of Storybrooke; not once could he recall someone taking that right turn toward the highway. Not one person. The cricket nodded to himself, as if coming to a decision.

Turning back to the boy, he realized how natural this felt. He no longer struggled with his strange, new shape - not that it was strange or new according to Henry. The difference in size did not bother him as it had at first. The very idea that he was someone else, a person he'd been forced to forget and forsake, still troubled him; this did not mean it would keep him from doing what he was good at. Sure, he may not remember being a conscience, but he was a fairly decent psychiatrist. Psychiatrists were meant to listen, and, _boy_, was he listening now! Excitement rolled within his small form, and Dr. Hopper shivered at the happy twitch that developed in his antennae.

"I have to say, Henry, I'm... I'm glad this happened. Becoming a cricket has changed, well, everything." Archie admitted, looking at his young patient in wonder. "What you said in the mine – that this couldn't be all there is – you were right. You've always said we couldn't leave Storybrooke and-and I didn't believe that before. Now… well, I think it's safe to say that I'm convinced."

Henry jumped off the bench, shoving the fairytale book to the side, and asked with some hesitation, "And that you are Jiminy Cricket? Do you believe that too?"

"You know," Archie scratched the spot behind his right antenna with a small laugh, "as strange as it is, I do." He beamed up at Henry, feeling light as a feather as his wings carried him into the air. "I may still not be able to _remember_, but somehow you have these stories – my story, all of our stories – and-and considering everything else, that's enough for me now."

Suddenly, Dr. Hopper found himself scooped out of the air and nearly crushed against the boy's chest in a giant hug. Henry plopped down on the sidewalk's edge and lay back against the grass, finally letting his arms fall to his sides and releasing the pinned cricket.

"You," Henry began with barking laughter, "have _no idea_ how glad I am to hear that."

Archie chuckled as he sat up and looked down at the boy's face. Henry lay back, eyes closed against the bright sunlight. A light smile lingered there, perfectly content in its place. Henry's chest rose and fell in even, gentle breaths. Dr. Hopper shook his head, sharing in Henry's bliss, _And you have no idea how grateful I am to be here for you now. Completely here for you._

* * *

**It feels great to be writing again. Thank you for your patience. **


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